News:

Thank you so much to our Tech Admin, Brent, and our fantastic forum members who have pitched in to help move things and transition to our new forum space! A special shout-out goes to Arkyls, Witch, Adiemus, Gothy, Uri and Rhiow, who have all worked exceptionally hard and have done such great work! Thank you very much!!!

An enraged snarl curled at her crimson maw as the female evaded her initial attack, damage was done but not to her liking. Silva caught on to what Ivoryraven was trying to do as soon as her hues caught the glint of sharp rapiers aiming for her back, oh no, this would not do. With a sharp bark of mock fear Silva would jump as the others fangs neared dangerously close to her vertebrae. Ivoryraven would regret that move, because Silva attached hope to her jump that her back would attempt to slam unexpectedly into the whelps teeth and attempt to buck her leg off of her. Hopefully breaking a few teeth with the blunt force of her muscled back.

If she was unsuccessful she would buckle her legs, hitting the ground and attempt a quick roll away towards the right. However; by doing this she would come away with some damage, the flesh from the center of her back to her side would peel away in a thin layer, ruby ribbons of copper would mesh and mat into her fur as the dirt packed over the exposed orifice. It was a decent sized flesh wound, one the other should be proud about. Instead of Ivoryraven reaching her initial location due to the small amount of space she was allowed and the quick reflex of Silva, would instead slice into her flank.

Tearing into the thick muscle but nothing vital. Blood dripping off her side and her hind flank. Silva giving a pained grunt, as she stood and attempted to pivot out of the way of the females fangs, would snap her own jowls viciously into the others face every time Ivoryraven's fangs came to close for her liking. In some quick movements and the confusing mesh of gnashing teeth, Silva would attempt to clip her on the cheek or the side of the maw with her own fangs, if not for anything other then to anger the female. This stoic demeanor was insulting and she demanded a reaction. If she landed none of this, she would take the damage she took and back step a few feet before quickly deciding her next course of action.

An angered growl rumbled in her chest as the scent of blood wafted into the air. Copper was thick and heavy as Silva, pumping with adrenaline, began to get serious. Her pink tongue flicked out to run languidly over poised fangs, saliva dripping from healthy gum. Silva didn't have time to think long, no one did in the heat of battle. So, she opted for something radical and possibly foolish. She would attempt to lunge directly for the others throat or neck, if she was successful in this venture she would latch her fangs into the others thick fur and flesh, not only putting Ivoryraven in a compromising position but also herself, this would give the other a clear shot for her shoulders and her upper back.

Then she would attempt to push her weight into the other and slam her into the ground onto her side and begin to whip her cranium from side to side like a rabid animal. Not seeing any other options, Silva did what she felt she had to do. However; upon the event Ivoryraven did evade this horrible attack, she would attempt to side step out of the way of the others fangs and further her attempts of putting her to ground by jolting forward and throwing her side into the others and using her weight against her that way. It was a basic side ways tackle and any pup in their first fur could do it.

This female had thwarted everything she had attempted so far and so far, her patience was running very thin. It was time to end this. Yet; Silva had already grown accustomed to this ones fighting style and knew Ivoryraven would do anything she could to dodge all of Silva's attempts. With this thought in mind if her second attempt off attacking her brutally, she would allow the other to remain standing so she could attempt to clamp the other females tail in her strong jaws and give quick jerks and pulls in a trying attempt to rip it off.

Call it dirty, call it cheap, but the crimson one was growing aggravated. It was could be concluded that Ivoryraven did not take her as a serious threat, that was the others mistake. If the high one had evaded everything she threw at her, then Silva would take a few quick steps back away from her and lower her cranium, training her eyes on the other. Her breathing was ragged, her lips still curled back in retribution. A fogged looked of hunger and crazed desire to be victorious could be seen in her eyes. Ivoryraven's history may be great, but all great empires eventually fell and Silva had every intention on watching this one crumble. Somehow...someway...she would, giving up or losing to be a swamp rat was simply not an option in her mind, death first.

The snarl of frustration from her opponent at not landing her bite would have made a wolf with lesser control grin. But her noises were shut out when they were of no use to The Reaper. Having her straddle be successful she moved in for her bite, and was almost rewarded with a rump smacking in her face. Luckily she had felt the shift in weight through her legs first, and used them as a buffer against the rising haunches, rewarding her with a slight bop to the jaws instead of a full on crash.

The Roll that Silva executed made it possible for Rave's fangs to find her side, and she tore through the flesh as the female retreated with the black female right after her. Most opponents would grow cocky at this point, saying something mocking or taunting to rile them up. Not Rave. She was brutally silent, just following the red she-wolf with those cold sapphire eyes. Her attempt to snap at the other's legs caught the haunch instead of the desired tendon, but it still left a wound that bled. The female snapped back at her, catching her sharp canines on the upper part of Rave's muzzle by her eyes. The small cuts weren't really that important, and while the red female's fangs did indeed cut, the haste and lack of aim had them slipping off her skull. Shallow cuts with shallow pain. She had faced worse. She didn't even shut her sapphire eyes in response to these, just snapped right back. Her cold, unfeeling eyes never wavered from her target.

Then the female turned completely, barreling straight towards her in a full blown charge, trying to get at her throat. Rave met her charge, rocking back on her haunches to take some of the impact. Her front legs flung up to partially block the charge, which made them likely to land on the other female's shoulders since she was moving in for a neck bite. Her bracing paws and sitting position also foiled the female's attempts to pin her down. Since Rave was shorter, and she was partially on her haunches when she braced for the impact, she was under the other female's head. Her ears laid flat against her head to avoid them being potential targets, she allowed her thick ruff to be the thing that was exposed, not her throat. It also made it so it wasn't the back of her opponent's neck that was in range of her fangs.

Rave aimed for the middle of the other's extended neck on the side that was exposed to her, intending to grab hold of the jugular and windpipe of her opponent and clamp down with all of her seven hundred pounds of bite force. Her hope was that she could sever or crush one, if not both of those vital channels. If she managed to get a bite she would clamp down and squeeze until they crunched under her jaws. Even if Silva managed to pull away if she landed the bite, with that kind of grip it was likely she'd cause some kind of damage. And the other bitch was already bleeding. Her ragged breathing were a testament that she was tiring.

Since they were locked together in some form or another, the only way Silva would be able to execute her tail grab would be to untangle herself from the other female. However, while they were locked together Rave would make repeated snaps at the other female's neck should her first blow be unsuccessful. If they did untangle, Rave would attempt to attack her opponent's already wounded side if she went after Rave's tail. Hoping to catch her teeth on the already sundered flesh, she would deepen the wounds she had already made. If she missed the side she'd go after the injured haunch, once again trying to tear muscle and tendon to render the leg useless and further slow her opponent down while speeding up the rate she was losing blood.

Rave didn't waste her time with emotion in a fight, all she was focused on was how to make her opponent bleed, suffer, submit. There was no "what if", there was no future. There was only here, now, with her blood amplifying the beat of her heart in her ears, the glow in her eyes, and the demanding hunger to kill. She wasn't worried about what was to come, and that stone focus was the thing that kept her face an impassive mask. Not anger. No, it was deeper than that. Not just bloodlust, not the hot emotions that came in a fight. Not even the fury, which caused a Blackblood's blood to run so hot it boiled. No, this was cold, unbridled abandon. She wasn't Ivoryraven any longer. She WAS The Reaper. And death was calling.